


i got old (what did you expect)

by Villinye (AslansCompass)



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Episode AU: 2013 Xmas The Time of the Doctor, F/M, Gen, time of the doctor au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-22
Updated: 2015-02-23
Packaged: 2018-01-13 08:37:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 6,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1219747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AslansCompass/pseuds/Villinye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of course River would come for Christmas.  Christmas is about family, after all.  And when your family needs you, you stay till the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Honey, I'm Home

**Author's Note:**

> I will age for you, if it pleases you. I will match you, wrinkle for wrinkle, grey hair for grey hair, crease for crease, wrinkle for wrinkle. You will be so beautiful when you are old.--Deathless

 

"Is anybody hurt? No? Thank goodness. Now, Adrian, Leigh, Johnny, Kiera, and Reagan, pile the bodies outside the church. Freya and Lizzette, get a fire going. Let me know if anyone's missing, and Barnable, pop inside and bring some wires from the workbench–not the blue ones, the purple. Make sure they're purple. "

"I'll find the most."

"No, me!"

"Come back when you're done, and we'll all have cocoa together, and biscuits."

"Marshmallows?" Kiera asked.

"You've been poking into my private stash." He winked. "Maybe. Just maybe."

Kiera nodded back and raced off.

The Doctor sighed. He wasn't expecting anything worse than bruised knuckles and scorched siding this time, but it was close. Too close. Tasha's force fields kept out the Cybermen, Daleks, Sycorax, and Drahvins, but it was like spreading high-quality caviar on Mark & Spenser's entire stock of bread; you just couldn't cover everything.

Wind gusted past, spilling snow like a child with sprinkles. Except it was cold and damp and all one color–not sprinkles, then, powdered sugar. Powdered sugar , mm, that would be good. Except they didn't have powdered sugar on Christmas, and what good was Christmas without sweeties? He'd have to make a note of it for next time he visited Tasha, write out a shopping list. Strands of lights, and Yorkshire pudding, maybe some Turkish Delight and of course jammey dodgers…

The outside noises faded away. Children scampered across the main square, throwing snowballs at each other, while a roaring fire blazed off to one side. Where was Barnable with those wires? And what was that noise?

_Vroop._

No, it couldn't be. He had imagined it. Sending Clara away in the TARDIS was like splitting Siamese twins, but it had to be done. Nothing was going to happen to her because of him. He'd promised himself.

 _Vroop. Vroop._ The pewter sky flickered blue.

Barnable emerged from the church, wires clutched tightly. "Is it another attack?"

"No, it's my ship."

"What?"

"My TARDIS. That's how I came here, remember?"

The TARDIS fully materialized. Almost before she finished, a woman staggered out , nearly falling in the snow.

Her shimmering dress* left her shoulders and collarbone bare; her hair was piled atop her head in a woven mess of curls. "Hello, sweetie."

 

 

River.

 _River._ But she was–that is–never mind timelines, that's River. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, I know the old girl isn't a taxi service, but what else was I supposed to do when she parked herself between the sofa and the coffee table? The moment I walked in, poof, she was off. Wouldn't even wait for me to do the environment checks once we landed–just booted me out. What sort of trouble have you gotten yourself into this time?"

"It's not exactly trouble–not on its own, really, it's more a matter of how the rest of the universe is responding to it, like Parliament and taxes you know, nobody would care about a raise in the television fee if it wasn't splashed across the headlines each night–-"

River gave him the look–no, not that look,the other look, the one that meant **and what time you call this?**

"It's downstairs." He led her into the cathedral basement, shoving aside half-finished projects and wood shavings. It wasn't the TARDIS workrooms, but it was still soothing to fiddle and design and engineer, even if it was only someone's barn. They stopped in front of the crack.

"Well then. " If she was surprised, she hid it well. Her tone was equally suited to going out for groceries or a Sontaran trooper interrupting supper. She even reached into her pocket for her scanner device. "A mysterious message, spreading terror throughout the universe, and no one knows what it says."

"Do they?" he repeated, a hint of teasing in the words.

"Well," she set the pad aside. "I could have saved myself the research–yes, research, I didn't just jump in the TARDIS straight away–no one in the universe could understand that message."

"Except us." He didn't need to ask where she was–younger River may break out of StormCage for a shopping spree, but only older River was this certain he needed her help.

River whispered the words carefully, like a snowflake melting on her tongue. Doctor who? The Gallifreyan plea felt awkward: since when did Time Lords ask for anything? They spoke, and it was so.

Explanations would wait.

 

 

River glanced at the worn mattress shoved against the wall. "Good thing I brought the TARDIS back. That bed's a bit small for two."

"What–you're staying?"

"I didn't close my lease, resign my teaching position, and risk temporal collapse by getting into an uncontrolled TARDIS just to sleep on the floor."

"You–you did what? River, it's dangerous."

"And the rest of our lives aren't?" That was definitely the other look, the he's-hot-when-he's-clever-face, as he'd called it in Florida.

"I can't ask you to give everything up for a crotchety old man."

"You didn't ask; the TARDIS did. The old girl can be quite persuasive." She laid a hand on his shoulder. "Do you really want me to go?"

"It's been a long time, a very long time." But there's one more thing he had to know, one factor she should consider before settling down with him. "Your parents will miss you."

"I've had time for goodbyes."

She didn't say _I've done Manhattan,_ but he read the footnotes to her careful words. "You can have the bed–I'll find us a new one later. I have stuff to do, I won't sleep…"

"I wasn't planning on it either."

 

 


	2. Settling In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of course River would come for Christmas. Christmas is about family, after all. And when your family needs you, you stay till the end. Time of the Doctor AU

 

 

The bark shavings curled and crumpled into black ash, igniting slender twigs. Slowly, the pyramid-stacked logs sparked to life, filling the room with golden light. River glanced from the fire to the semicircle of wooden chairs. A smooth-hewed table sat against the wall, already covered with a dissembled temporal inhibitor.  
  
"Why can't you just work on that in the TARDIS?"  
  
"You're the only one who can find me in there. What if we have an emergency?" The Doctor didn't even look up from his work.  
  
"You could have reactivated the phone system. It worked fine while you were building the house."  
  
"No, no. That was only a temporal solution. Communications must be synchronized throughout the entire ship, or you keep calling yourself–did that a few times, wasn't keen to mess with it again."  
  
River sighed. "We can't keep popping into the TARDIS every time I want the clothes cleaned or you need more cables."  
  
"Once I network the architectural reconfiguration system with a remote projector, that won't be a problem. Certain rooms will be rerooted to a separate, free-standing structure with self-sustaining architecture and only residual atron energy."  
  
"And?"  
  
"And….er…well, those rooms–not the console room or the architectural reconfiguration room itself, but the exported rooms themselves will anchor the transcendental shell, ground her as it were, convey the implication that her owners are committed to defending the location as for a good long while." He paused. "If you've changed your mind about staying, I'll give you a lift out, but it will have to be soon."  
  
River pulled another chair up to the table. "You're not cannibalizing her. "  
  
"No, no, of course not. I wouldn't–I couldn't–"  
  
"Then why?"  
  
He shook his head, refusing to meet her eyes.  
  
"Tell me. You haven't been inside her for days. And even when you're working on her, you won't let me in to help. What's wrong?"  
  
"Amy said once that this–stars and planets and monsters–felt like running away. I said that wasn't it at all, I was running to things. All those brief, brilliant, wonderful things–people," he corrected himself. "There's nothing left. Why not stay?"  
  
River wrapped her hands around his. "But…"  
  
"All those little days, River. The ones that separate the big ones, like the plastic wrappers in a biscuit tin. We've had breakfast in Paris, tea in Kensington Gardens, the premiere of Agamemnon in the evening. But a day that starts at midnight or sunrise or sunset– and ends twenty-four hours later, on the same planet, in the same time, just like everyone else…"  
  
"We've had a few of those."  
  
"Involving Daleks, Weeping Angels, or the Votaries of Perpetual Precipitation," he protested. "A day where nothing happens…"  
  
"We're living next to a crack in the universe with the potential to unleash an unending war that would consume galaxies in seconds. I don't think that will be a problem."


	3. Snowdrops

“Left; no, not that left, the other left.” A wrist slap confirmed which side was meant.  “And stop picking at the blindfold.”

“That’s half the fun.”

“For two year olds.” River tightened the blindfold.

He gave up on the cloth and let his hand slide down.

“Well, if that’s how you want it.”

Green! Olive, evergreen, pine, mint, moss, teal, shamrock, olive—admittedly, in small, speckled rows, but it was more green than he had seen since landing in Christmas.  “Where are we?” He glanced around the room.  Utility shelves stretched from left to right, with barely enough space to squeeze around at the ends. The shelves were crammed full of pots, ranging from rough-hewn clay to a priceless early Chin dynasty vase.  Each pot spilled variegated foliage:  saw-toothed, lobed, smooth, pale, bright, fine-veined or ribbed.   

“You don’t think all the food here comes from your little chats with Tasha, do you?”

“No, not at all, I just—oh, that’s brilliant. Static solution hydroponics, but where’s the light coming from?” He craned his neck. “The solar energy is collected and stored—higher level of technology than I’d initially expected, but with limited resources…”

River paused to pry the cover off a baththub-sized bucket, revealing eggshells, fruit peelings, wood shavings and sawdust.  “Compost is coming along nicely.”

“Compost? Why? Hydroponics don’t even use soil.”

“For the annuals, no. But fruit trees and the larger perennials can’t support themselves in liquid solutions. So if you want anything sweet besides beets, we’d better get to it.”

“Can I help?” The Doctor’s eyes gleamed. 

“Sure. Take one of these trowel and aerate the soil.”

He began eagerly digging. At first, he loosened each scoop, swirling the contents , but as the hole deepened, he became obsessed with obtaining the precise ratio of dry and damp material.

“It’s compost, not an archeological dig.” River chuckled.

“Better get used to it; I don’t think Christmas has the ruins of an ancient temple or mysterious complex to keep you busy.”   He winked at her. “Of course, I have other ideas if you care to hear them…”

 


	4. Skirmishes

“You stay here; I’m going in to get a closer look.”  
“River, there’s at least a dozen left; you can’t take them on alone.”  
“Come along, then. Or are you saying I can’t handle some kids with snowballs and slingshots?”  
There was no good answer to this question. If he disapproved, she’d tussle him up like a turkey and turn traitor, breaking their 20-0 winning streak. If he approved, she’d pack the kids into snowbanks like kippers. (It had been a very long game, starting with the holographic projector someone had nicked from the TARDIS.) “Can’t we negotiate?”  
“Not this time.” River glanced at her wristband computer . “It’s here, I’m sure of it.”  
“Well, then.” The Doctor smiled. “Time for an old trick.” He stood up, brushed the snow from his purple coat. “Anybody care for some marshmallows?”  
Snowballs whizzed through the air, some breaking apart midflight, some diving to the ground. One smashed into the Doctor’s left check. “Oye, that’s not nice!”   
His plea was answered with another half-dozen snowballs.   
“River!”  
No one answered. Two kids stepped out from the trees, more snowballs in hand.   
“Now, really? I said I had marshmallows, I’d be willing to share. Or jammy dodgers, I’m sure I have some left in the TARDIS.”  
Two snowballs swooped over the Doctor’s head, like spring birds chasing each other. Somehow they changed direction and zoomed towards the kids, who shrieked and ran back to the woods. The Doctor grinned. That’s his River.  
In front of him, the Doctor heard giggles and teasing shrieks, soon cut off by the thud of snowballs. Off to the side, perhaps forty-five degrees or so, he noticed something odd. It was just a starberry bush, but the marble-sized fruit is glowing white, not pale blue. The branches aren’t as full as they should be either. It’s an impression of a starberry, not a real—a hologram. “River, I found the holopro.” The word tickled his tongue. Holopro. Holopro. Cool word. He bent over to dismantle the starberry hologram.  
A green globe floated at the edge of his vision. “Something wrong with you? What’d those kids do? I’ll fix it, don’t you worry…” He looked up properly.   
The holopro wasn’t malfunctioning. He wasn’t seeing thing. “Rutans.” The jellyfish shape danged from a tree branch barely twenty feet away.   
“We have been sent to contain the danger. We must ensure the question is never answered.”  
Rotten Rutans. “What’s with the plural? Delusions of royalty, are we?”   
“We are nothing. We must ensure the safety of all our people. This planet has been declared the greatest threat to our nation.”  
“Above the Sontarans? Did you hear that, River?” He raised his voice, but continued to fiddle with the holopro. “I am a greater threat to the Rutans then their archenemy. Quite an accomplishment, wouldn’t you say?” He could hear footsteps in the distance, but the Rutan couldn’t. Jellyfish weren’t built for long-distance, non-aquatic communications.  
“You must be destroyed.”  
There. He turned to look the Rutan in the eye. Or in the center of the floating blobby bits, anyway. “Think you might have a little competition. Those Sontarans fairly determined to do the job themselves.”  
Four Sontarans, blasters primed and aimed, approached through the trees.   
The Rutan quivered slightly. “You are our mission.” It twisted a few tentacles together, like a person wringing his hands. “But they are our mortal foes.”  
The moment the Rutan turned away, the Doctor bolted for the forest. It was darker under the trees, and he thought he could see figures moving. Not Rutans, though. Human, or at least humanoid. “River,” he called quickly. “River.”  
She stepped out from behind a clump of cedars. “What is it?”  
“Rutans. Used the holopro to create some Sontarans and distract them, but we have to get the kids back to Christmas. “  
“Right. Party’s over, kids. “ She reached into her pocket and pulled the familiar squareness gun.


	5. Ashes

River had died this young, but it hadn’t hurt. Or rather, everything had hurt so much, for so long, that the golden warmth of regeneration was a soothing pain.  She hoped Rachel’s death had been that kind. There were no final rites to whisper in the hour of death, no curates to murmur soothing platitudes.  Christmas, in spite of its name, was a thoroughly irreligious society. 

The ground of Trenzalore was frozen too stiff to dig graves, even small ones. Instead, bodies were cremated on double pyres, reminding people that community does not end in death.  The constant cold ensured that bodies remained preserved until the proper time, even if they had to wait.

These days, that was rarely a problem. Rachel lay on the center pyre, curled next to Alderman Garan . In life, the alderman was gruff as sandpaper, dedicated to the civil defense, and enjoyed exploiting the truth field by detailing stiff joints, pulled muscles, and weak organs to anyone who happened to ask “how are you today?”

Rachel, on the other hand, delighted in using sarcasm, half-answers, and ambiguous phrases to outwit her parents.  The eight-year-old had developed the wit of a teenage to match her rambunctious attitude.  Going outside? Just a jumper, thanks.  Eaten all your vegetables? Yes—chips count.

Flames crackled as pine branches released sap. The aroma of pine drifted on the breeze, accompanied by the faint popping of stray sparks.  In the wavering blue-white heart of the fire,  the red shrouds smolder long after they should crumble into ashes.


	6. Answers

“I’m going out, be back in a bit.”  The Doctor adjusted his waistcoat. “Keep an eye on things, dear.”

“Not this time,” River called from the kitchen. “I’m coming with you. “

“I’ll be perfectly safe. Tasha says it’s a parlay.”

“And you trust her?”

“That force field of hers is the only reason we weren’t blown to bits ages ago.”  He slowly rose from the chair. “Besides, I’m taking the TARDIS.”

“I’m coming.”  River took his hand. “Besides, you honestly think the old girl wouldn’t let me stow away any time I wanted?”

 

* * *

 

The Church of the Papal Mainframe was much as it had been when they’d commissioned River for the Byzantium.  True, she’d only seen one of the lower bishops, but the rows of young men and women in battle gear, the blue and steel pipes reaching to the ceiling, even the metallic quiet, was just as she remembered it.

 “Confess.” 

                 River only saw the long, slender face from the corner of her eye, but memories rushed in like a physical blow.  Dr. Redfern wiping away the red loop of a G,   the spacesuit swallowing her whole, a mock TARDIS beneath the Florida streets.   “Why are they here?”

“Tasha can explain it better than I can.”

They followed one of the archbishops down the hall to the Papal Suite.   The moment the doors were open, the Doctor rushed to a large candy box at one end of a long table. “Any pink ones?”

“E numbers. You're hyper enough as it is. “

“Those things—the ones you can’t remember—what are they?” River

“Confessional priests. “ Tasha Lim’s expression was difficult to read underneath the strange makeup.  “They are genetically engineered so parishioners forget everything they tell them.  The Kovarian Chapter used them as enforcers.”

“The Kovarian Chapter?” River’s voice did not quiver. 

“They broke away from us, travelled back along the timeline and tried to prevent you ever reaching Trenzalore. “ Tasha’s eyes remained fixed on the Doctor.

“So that's who blew up my Tardis. I thought I'd left the bath running. “

“They blew up your time capsule and created the very cracks in the universe through which the Time Lords are now calling. “

“The destiny trap. Can’t change history if you’re part of it.” He bit into another sweet. “Or so I used to think. Time can be rewritten.”

 “I'm not interested in changing history, Doctor, and judging from her presence,” Tasha glanced sideways at River.  “I don’t think you are either.”

“Would’ve invited you to the wedding, but we were a bit busy at the time. Universe collapsing on itself, that sort of thing.”

“I’m interested in changing the future, not the past. The Daleks send for reinforcements daily. They are massing for war. Three days ago, they attacked the Mainframe itself. “

 “They attacked here? “ The Doctor closed the box of sweets with a loud thud.

“How did you stop them? Did you get any information?”

“Stop them? It was slaughter. “

“Why didn't you call me? We could have helped.”

“I tried. I died in this room, screaming your name.”  

“ No.” The worlds were barely audible, but River was already moving.  Squareness gun in her back pocket.  

“ Oh. I died. It's funny the things that slip your mind.”  Tasha collapsed on the table, face down.

“No! No, no, no.” He pleaded. “Tasha, no, please, not Tasha. No. Fight it. Tash, fight it!” Amy and Rory held it off, he’s told River about the Asylum, if they could do it, Tasha can.

Too late. The eyestalk emerged from her forehead, just as full Daleks emerged through the back door. “Step away from the Dalek unit, Doctor.”

“You shouldn't even know who I am.  Clara wiped the hivemind, erased every last trace of me from your databanks.”

“Information concerning the Doctor was harvested from the cadaver of Tasha Lem. “

“Bet she never told you how to break through the Trenzalore forcefield, though. She'd have died first. “

“Several times,” the Dalek confirmed.

“ Well, you'd better kill me, then. Go on. But before you do—“ He activated the sonic, filling the room with one phrase.

_“Doctor who? Doctor Who? Doctor Who?”_

“I'm a tough old bird. I'll be ages dying.”

“And it definitely won’t be today—I left some stew on for dinner; we should get back before it boils over.” River slowly backed away from Tasha.

The Daleks’ eyestalks swiveled from River to the Doctor and back. “Ex-ter-min-ate.  Ex-ter-min-ate.”

Blue energy arced from Tasha’s hands. “Stay away from the TARDIS, Doctor!”

“Or what? You’ll shoot me? You’ll do that anyway, what kind of logic is that?” The Doctor spread his hands.

“Or we will shoot your associate,” one of the Daleks screeched.

“She’s not just my associate, she’s my wife. And she’s not afraid of any of you.  Does the name  River Song mean anything to you?”

The Daleks conferred for a moment.

“She is the woman who killed the Doctor.”

“But you are not dead.”

“Explain. Explain.”

“It’s a long story and I don’t exactly have the time—River, now!”  The Doctor pointed his sonic at an air vent above the altar. White smoke, smelling heavily of fir and silver-leaf geraniums, filled the room.

River aimed at Tasha’s eyestalk and fired. Sparks bounced off the metal, landing on her still-human cheeks. 

 The Mother Superior screamed, clawing at her face. “NO, NO!”  In the corner, the blue box faded away.

“We are losing control.”

  “Abort, abort!”

 Tasha inhaled sharply. “No.  This ends.”  Her eyestalk extended to its full length,  aiming at the full Daleks.  “And so do you.”


	7. silence must fall

"You don't have to come if you don't want to," the Doctor murmured in River's ear as they lay beneath a tangled mess of blankets.  

"I'm not afraid of fighting," River snorted.

"No, you most certainly aren't. Daleks, Cybermen, Sontarans, Dravins, they've all learned better than to mess with my wife." He pressed his head against her shoulder. "But there are things in the corner of your eye; things you can't run away from.  I am so, so sorry--"

"You're being sentimental."

"At 1, 245, I think I'm entitled." Noise from outside drifted through the open window.  It was odd--he'd never considered them making sounds. In his half-memories they advance silently, blue energy arcing from long fingers.  "Our allies await." He reached to the side table,  unwilling to look away.  His fingers closed around a flexible oval, a synthetic fabric unfamiliar in this world of rough wood and handmade fabrics. 

River pushed back the covers, rolled out of bed, and walked over to the wardrobe.  Their clothes were jumbled together on the hangers, her jodhpurs hanging under his velvet vests, their protective vests fallen onto the floor.  By the time she was dressed, he had extracted himself from the sheets and put the kettle on for morning tea.  Breakfast is a quiet affair; the clinking spoons form a kind of rhythm.

He takes the cane from the rack by the door. "Will you do the honors?"  He held out his hand,  revealing the silver shape.

River's fingers deftly pealed the backing away and pressed the oval over his right eye. He did the same for her, pretending not to notice the slight quiver in her gun hand as the drive activated. 


	8. Accommedations

The Doctor woke to a racket of thud , pounding noises, and half-heard conversations.  “River, what didn’t you tell me?”  he groused,  pushing back the blankets.  He blinked several times, trying to clear his vision. River wasn’t there. The other side of the bed was neatly made, blankets hanging a hand’s breadth over the edge of the mattress.

He staggered out of bed and grabbed his bathrobe from the doorknob.  When he reached into the pocket, his sonic wasn’t there. Figures. River must have taken it again. She had her own now, a smart redesign of his latest model (without red settings or dampers, just…because), but she still took his on occasion.  Oh, sure, she said she had reasons, but honestly, she just likes to tease him sometimes.

He headed towards the front door, pausing  once to tighten the sash on his bathrobe.

The whole village was outside his house—preteens energetically pounding in nails, parents sawing boards, and teenagers directing crews of small children with sandpaper and paint.  “Now, then, what’s all this noise? Thought the Teegants were invading again.”  

“We built a ramp,” eight-year-old Jayna piped up.

“You did?” The Doctor bent over to look her in the eye. “What kind of ramp? Like, a rocket launching platform or a ski jump or a bowling lane?”

“I dunno,” she confessed. “Do you have a rocket?”

“I just might,” he grinned. “Now, are you going to show me how it works or what?” 

Jayna stepped forward and put her hand in his. “Right there, see? Next to the stairs.”   Besides the three worn steps, cracked from years of ice, a smooth ramp ran down to the street.  Both sides had handrails, painted with bright colors.  

“I did that bit,” Jayna pointed at a post painted blue with a yellow blob on top. “It’s your box.”

“Thank you, my dear. Thank you very much. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” he cleared his throat. “I believe this was all my wife’s idea. Where is she?”

River stepped out of the crowd.  “Good morning, sweetie.”

“Now, what was all this about? Banging out like that? What if I’d thought it was an attack?”

“As if you’d make that mistake twice.”

“No harm in being prepared.  And where’s my sonic?”

River shrugged. “We were building a ramp. I needed a screwdriver.”

 


	9. cat's cradle

"I can't believe you put our name in the lottery! Honestly, what were you thinking? We're twice as old as anyone here--we can't--"

"Shhh," the Doctor tapped her mouth. "You'll frighten her."

"They brought her over already?"

"Where was she supposed to go?" he sank into a chair. "The system was not my idea. We just .... modified it. Not like I wanted to," he mumbled.

"Be that as it may, we still have a three-year-old girl in our house--and you didn't ask me!" River huffed.

What was he supposed to do? Leave her there? He was tired of seeing people die, of children asking where they were going to go next. Some children had been moved two, three times, when the family that took them after losing their parents was killed in another action. So he'd stuffed their name in the box, and if it had come up at the next opportunity, well, no one could  _prove_ that he'd manipulated anything.

 They can't take care of a child--they're the last people who should--what if something happens to them?

Well, then, the war will be over, won't it?  No more way to open the crack.

Faint cries interrupted their argument. The Doctor pushed open the door, finding a chubby, dark-haired toddler with a piece of charcoal in her hand.  She'd dragged it across the floor, leaving smudges everywhere. "Now then," the Doctor asked.  "What's this supposed to be?"

"Wyting," the girl announced. 

"And what were you writing?"

 "My name."  She stuck out her tongue. "My howse now?" 

" _River,"_ the Doctor pleaded.  

Between his face and the girl's, River never stood a chance.

 

* * *

"Are you sure that's what you want to wear to school today?" River asked.

"Yup." Even hitched up to just below her armpits, the petaled skirt pooled around the eight-year-old's feet like a wedding train.  "It's sooo pretty."

"Then at least let me pin it a bit. I don't want it falling off."

"Don't want pins," the girl folded her arms. "Want Daddy's braces."

River choked back laughter. "But---honey---"

"Braces."

* * *

"This assignment is so stupid!"  She punctuated the statement by knocking half a dozen books off the table and onto the floor. "Why do they make us do it?"

"What assignment?" The Doctor looked up from the pile of devices he was tinkering with. 

"Interview an eyewitness to a significant event that occurred outside of the town. "

"So?"

"So, she said we couldn't ask family members! I actually have to go and find someone who's actually been elsewhere in their life!"  She shoved the chair aside. "Enjoy retelling your visit to the Mainframe twenty-two times!"

He must have missed something. "Twenty-two?"

"That's how many people are in my class!"

* * *

 

Maybe he wasn't actually rubbish at weddings after all.  He'd done fine at Amy and Rory's, hadn't he? (Apart from the stir he'd caused just by showing up, but that was completely her fault).  He was still together with River, regardless of the ceremony.  This time, he just needed to say a few words, and if he cried, well, that's what dads are supposed to do for their daughters, isn't  it?

* * *

 

It had been a long time since anyone called him "Grandpa. "  And even then, all those centuries ago, he was the responsible one, the haughty and omnipotent leader. He knew better now.  Even if he couldn't crawl around on the floor, he could  create all kinds of wonderful toys, make funny faces and blow bubbles that didn't pop when you touched them.  

"Just the two of us tonight, eh?" he whispered.   "So, what shall we do tonight?"

The little boy grinned.  He'd started smiling at four weeks,  well before all the books and manuals suggest, but the books hadn't seen the Doctor telling about dinosaurs on a spaceship and pretending to ride a triceratops. 

 "Another story? What about? Grandma?"  Oh, there were so many stories he could tell about River.  Well, obviously not Berlin.  The Byzantium would be a bit much for an eight-month old. And the Pandorica would just be confusing. "But you want that one? Really? Okay then.  Once, there was a very busy man who ran all over the universe causing trouble...."


	10. anachronistic

In the sub-zero temperatures outside, frostbite could occur in as little as five minutes. Five minutes.  Even walking from his house to the church was too dangerous in this weather, so the Doctor and River had dragged their mattress over to the basement, along with all the firewood in town.  Better to heat one building than every home in town.  So what if it was a little cramped? 

Over in the corner, three girls and a boy were building a a massive pillow fort.

"Come on, Metha," the boy moaned. "Can't we just get to the good part?"

"I'm not Metha," she snapped. "I'm Sarah. Sarah Jane Smith."

"And I'm Leela!" Another girl waved a stick menacingly. 

"Come on, everyone," the last girl adjusted the hairbow clipped to her shirt.  "Time to explore. And don't stand up, that's not right!"

"Why  do I have to be the dog?" the boy demanded.

"Because."

"That's not an answer."

"And you're not talking right. You're only supposed to say 'a-firm-tiv' or 'neg-e-tiv.'"

"I don't want to play anymore."  

"You know what, though, the dog is very important," the Doctor called from across the room. "All those sensors and lasers and clever gadgets."

"Really?"

"Really.  He's important, because everyone I've ever met is important. And I think this adventure needs a clever, useful, brave doggy in it."


	11. Come and take it

“Doctor! The Doctor will be brought.” The Dalek demand echoed through the town, from the cathedral cellars to the main hall and throughout every home.

“They’re back again, aren’t they?”  The Doctor murmured.

River nodded. “Have you got a plan?”

“Oh, I always have a plan.  Maybe not a plan this time—more of a thing in progress, really.” He sighed. “Alright, that’s a lie.  I’ve been here before.  This is where it ends.” 

“Not like this.”

“Spoilers? I thought we’d run out of secrets.”

“We can always change it.”

He laughed, but it quickly became a cough. “Ah, we’ve switched sides again? That old argument? Not this time.  For something this big, we’d need the Time Lords. They could hold reality together, stitch up the cracks for good.”

Another shout came from outside. “Locate the Doctor.” 

“I have to go out.” He pressed down on the wheelchair’s arms, trying to get up.

“Not without me.”

“No, you’re staying here. Promise me. “

“I already promised. I’m not leaving you.”

“You have to. River…..” He nearly confessed everything, about the Library, his former self, the grave for an absent body.   “They want that crack to stay shut.  They kill me: that’s that, no one else can open it. But if they know about you—who you are--- _please_.”

She kissed his wrinkled cheeks and handed him the cane.

 

 

Only the faint light of the cracks still illuminated the half-finished toys and dusty crates.  She’d been reminding him to clean it up for decades, but every time they tried to start, the children came in to “help” and end up leaving with hovercraft cars or building blocks that play tunes.   This is it then. This is really it. 

She glared at the crack.  If only this one had sealed with all the others—the Byzantium and the Pandorica and a bedroom wall in Leadsworth. But that one had only hid Prisoner Zero.

Not the Time Lords.

The Time Lords.  Golden light shot through her thoughts, twisting from a New York alleyway to Berlin and back again. _Transferable energy._  Why hadn’t she made the connection before?

River knelt near the crack. “So, all this time, waiting for an answer.  Are you sure you know what you’re asking? Well, I won’t disappoint.

“He’s a sentimental idiot and a fool and I just want to slap him right now, but that doesn’t matter, because he’s dying. You hear me? He’s spent hundreds of years keeping this little planet from being blown to bits, because everyone’s terrified that you’ll come back.  After all those years running away, he’s guarded and fought for you. But he’s dying—old age or the Daleks, he won’t be back. And you’ll be trapped forever.

“Except that’s not entirely true.  There’s one scholar who can answer your little riddle.   Oh, not all the stories were erased—there were still some tales left of the people who dabbled in Time as children dabble in mud, of a people who considered aliens unworthy of life, of their language with the power to rewrite the universe.  She knows the power in those words.  If he dies, she’ll finish what he could not. She’ll open the crack, oh yes. And her vengeance will be that of a wife for her husband, a judge against war crimes, a survivor facing her oppressors.  And she will come with the wrath, loneliness and unimaginable agony of the last TARDIS.”

The crack snapped shut.                           

River nodded grimly. That should do it.

 

 

The Daleks weren’t attacking—not yet, anyway. River quietly closed the back door behind her.  Their command vessel hovered above the main square, lights fixed on the bell tower.   Ray blasts filled the night, each shot punctuated by screams.  The town had fought the Dalek before, driven them back even, but only because the Daleks were scared of the Doctor.

River drew her pistol and flicked the safety off.

Golden light danced from the sky, spilling from a crack.  It spiraled down to the town of the clock tower, slipping through his cracked lips like ambrosia. Even from this distance, she could see his face twitching.

“You will die now, Doctor. This is the end of you.”

River could have sworn she heard a whisper as the crack faded. _Happy now?_ it asked, barely-concealed panic in each syllable.

“The rules of regeneration are known. You have expended all your lives.”

“Sorry, what did you say? Did you mention the rules? Now, listen. Bit of advice. Tell me the truth if you think you know it.” His voice grew louder and stronger with each syllable.  “Lay down the law if you're feeling brave. But, Daleks, never, ever tell me the rules!”

“Emergency! Emergency! The Doctor is regenerating!”  Each chime of the clock punctuated the Daleks’ statement.   They stopped firing at the villagers, focusing completely on the wrinkled figure atop the tower.

“Oh, look at this. Regeneration number thirteen.” He spun his cane like a pinwheel. Oh, he was himself again. Brash and bold and dramatic. “We're breaking some serious science here, boys. I tell you what, it's going to be a whopper!”

River dashed to the front steps of the tower, motioning for the others to follow her while the Daleks were distracted.

“Exterminate! Exterminate the Doctor.” The Daleks were genuinely terrified now—she hadn’t heard this much emotion from one since the Pandorica.

“You think you can stop me now, Daleks? If you want my life,” he dropped the cane, raising both hands. “Ha, ha, come and get it!” Light streamed from one hand. 

“Get inside, all of you.” River commanded. “Now, quickly!”

Survivors darted towards the building, rushing inside.  “What about you?” someone asked.

“I’ll be fine, go.” River slammed the door, ducking as a Dalek shell crashed to the ground.  Even their armor was no match for the destructive force of atron energy, writing cells in the blink of an eye.  She’d done something similar once, but knocking out a few Nazis was merely a slap on the wrist compared to this battle fury.

“Love from Gallifrey, boys!”  His whole body disappeared in a pillar of flame that shot up to the Dalek mothership, slicing it like a hot knife through butter. River barely noticed the falling wreckage. She had to get to him.

Then the shockwave hit.


	12. When the Doctor was Me

Sparks danced before River’s eyes, purple and green and crimson in a pinwheel of colors. She staggered to her feet.  “And they thought Berlin was bad.”  There’s only one place he’d be now: home. Not the workshop in the cathedral basement or the snug bedroom, but their real home. The TARDIS.

His clothes lay in heaps on the floor; a bowl of custard sat on the console, with two fish fingers soaking up the sauce.  “Doctor?”

“Hello.” He raised the bowl to his nose, breathing in the aroma.

He’s young again. Oh, he’d never really been old, never fussy and boring, but the centuries of battle and reprieve and uneasy alliance had eaten his high spirits like rust on iron. 

But the smoke and the flames and the light—oh, of course.  “Eye of the storm.”

“A whole new regeneration cycle…takes a while to reset.” He set the bowl back down.  “Breaking it in. Oh. Oooh.” He pulled the dematerialization lever. “It all just disappears, doesn't it? Everything you are, gone in a moment, like breath on a mirror. Any moment now, he's a-coming.”

“Who?”

“The Doctor.”

River smiled. “You are the Doctor. You are my Doctor, never mind what silly face you wear.”

“Seen the next one, have you? Any hints?”

She shook her head. “Spoilers.”

“Worth a try. Times change, and so must I.”

The papers fluttered as if someone was running past.  The Doctor glanced at the stairs, following something only he could see. “Amelia?”

River sucked in her breath. 

“We all change, when you think about it. We're all different people all through our lives. And that's okay, that's good, you've got to keep moving, so long as you remember all the people that you used to be. I will not forget one line of this. Not one day. I swear. I will always remember when the Doctor was me.” His gaze flickered back to the stairs.  It can’t be, he knows it can’t be—but it is. Amy Pond, all grown up.   _You’ll be there until the end of me._  Her hand brushed his face, warm and solid. This wasn’t a dream.

“Raggedy Man,” she whispered.

It had been such a long day, such a long life, and he was so tired.

“Goodnight.”

He reached out to her, but she had already gone.  Tears clogged his throat; the bow tie was so tight. He untied it, planning to hand it to River, but pain has come back; the cloth falls to the floor.

River reached for his hand, but a jolt sends her backwards.

“Kidneys! I’ve got new kidneys!”

River smiled. Oh, she’d had good times with this one. Would have good times with this one. Never mind the grammar, she’d better see what the TARDIS was trying to do. After centuries of sitting around, she was a tad overexcited.

“We’re probably crashing.  Stay calm….wait, you are calm. Do you happen to know how to fly this thing?”

River snickered. “Oh sweetie…I thought you’d never ask.”

 


End file.
